


la maison fatigué

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Josh Hutcherson - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1924, 4 years since the Prohibition Law was enforced, but that doesn't mean the alcohol isn't flowing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One.

It’s been four years since the city went _dry_.

I still go down to the docks every Sunday with my older brother Lex to collect the imports. It’s only ‘medicinal’ whiskey and wine, or at least that’s what the permit says. It may not be a real permit, but it fools the dumb cops that hang out in the marina around that time. Most days Andre comes along with us. It’s good to have some muscle, and despite the fact that he’s really just a giant teddy bear, he does _look_ intimidating.

More often than not I just sit on the other side of the dock, in the sunshine, in the rain, in the snow, and watch the boats come in. For the last few years, this is how it’s been. I don’t like staying at home alone. We lost Daddy in the war and Mama got sick before that. Since then it’s been Lex taking care of me. I’m no kid, mind you. Nineteen, almost a lady. I can fend for myself, but like I said, I like the company, and Lex and I were always close.

It’s an August morning just like any other when a split second decision changes my life.

“Ada can sing,” I hear Lex and Andre speaking, standing near me at the end of the pier. This grabs my attention.

“What?” I jerk my head up in surprise. “What are you talking about? I don’t sing.”

“You sing all the time at home,” Lex counters, folding his arms.

“Why are you talking about this?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s fine, Ada,” Andre smiles, and puts his arm around my shoulders. I barely even reach his elbow as he pulls me into his side. This is the part of the morning where we go back to his car, and he drops me and Lex home before he goes to work.

The thing is, while Lex takes care of me, it’s Andre that takes care of Lex.

But today is different because we drive right past the turn in towards our block.

“Where are we going?” I ask from the back seat.

“The club,” Lex smiles at me over the back of the passenger seat. I bite my lip.

“You mean, where you and Andre work?”

“Correct.”

And now, I was nervous. Lex and Andre worked some shifts at an underground club near the edge of the city. The thing about the prohibition is that now when people drink, it’s not a leisurely glass of wine with their dinner, it’s ‘drink all you can, while you can’ mentality. It’s a smidge scary. Lex is tall, but thin, and not very tough at all, and he’s my only family left. And the idea of those rowdy drunkards surrounding him most nights gives me the creeps.

“Oh,” I mutter, staring down at my lap.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Andre grins from the driver’s seat, “Michelle don’t open the doors until late. You’re safe.”

I must look relieved, because he laughs.

“You know, they’re looking for a performer.”

“I- Huh?”

“You know, someone to entertain the masses. Usually a singer.”

I consider throwing myself out of the car.

“That’s why you’re taking me, isn’t it.”

“You can sing, Ada. And we need the money.” Lex is quiet in the front, and I know he’s not kidding around with me. He doesn’t get paid a lot despite his two jobs, and the rent is slowly climbing. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need you to do it.”

I stare down at my lap. I know he’s right, and there are so many things I owe Lex for.

“Fine.”

I feel sick to my stomach as Andre pulls the car into an alley. A couple of feet in front of the car is the entrance to a cellar, and I judge that to be the entrance to the place we need to go.

I’m right.

Lex pulls the doors up and open, revealing a set of stone steps. I follow him down, and Andre closes the doors behind us. There’s something distinctly eerie, but I push all my nerves to the back of my mind as we come to a metal door. Lex knocks twice, then once, then thrice, and waits. I hear the locks click and then a panel, two feet higher than my head, slides back. A pair of eyes peer through the slot.

“Just let us in,” Lex rolls his eyes.

“Nuh-uh, you need the password.”

“Josh, c’mon.”

“Nope.”

“Josh.”

“Password.”

Andre sighs and steps forward.

“We’ve got you a singer.”

There’s a baited silence, and the eyes flicker towards me. I feel uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of the man behind the door. His eyes narrow at me, thickly lashed and dark like the forest floor. Suddenly the panel slides back into place and a lock clicks.

The door swings back, revealing a man, not much taller than myself, broad in build, dark hair slicked back and a warm smile on his face. There is a wooden step propped under his arm. Suddenly, I feel relieved. There had been something unnerving about the eyes detached from the rest of his face. But now, seeing him in full, I would maybe even consider him handsome.

His white shirt is rolled up to his elbows, only one side tucked into his slacks, and his shoes could do with a polishing.

“Welcome to La Maison Fatigué.” He smiles slightly, before turning on his heel, and walking away through the open door behind him. Andre rolls his eyes.

“Who was that?” I ask, staring at the doorframe, where he’d been just seconds ago.

“That’s Josh, Michelle’s eldest. He’s a piece of work, but we love him. You will too.”

“Oh,” I say.

“He tends the bar most night with his father and brother. He’s good at keeping the patrons in line.”

“Small and mighty,” Lex agrees.

“Oh,” I say.

Both men look at me, and smile vaguely. Like they know something I don’t. And I hate that, so I fold over my arms and push my hat back off my face a little, blowing a strand of hair away.

“Let’s go find Chris, and then we’ll know what to do with you,” Lex slings his arm over my shoulder, and they direct me to the corridor that man, Josh, had just disappeared down. To my total amazement, it opens into a make-shift tavern, lit with brass chandeliers and a small wooden stage to the north side. I look around in amazement.

I have admiration for the Hutchersons, keeping a business like this, and keeping it as discreet as it was. I don’t know much about them to be honest, just that Michelle and Christopher are gin runners, and they and their sons, and some family, run this place most nights.

“This is your first time?” A voice asks me, and I turn to see a man with thinning hair and warm eyes leaning against the bar. I nod slowly in answer to his question.

“I’m Chris,” he says, smiling, and extending his hand. Lex gives me a gentle nudge in the back and I step forward, grasping his hand.

“Adrianna Valentine, sir.”

“You gonna sing for me and my boys?” he asks. And it’s then that I notice Josh and another man standing at the end of the bar, in a doorway. “That’s Connor and that’s Josh. They’re tough to impress y’know.” Chris’s words are good natured, but there’s a knot in the pit of my stomach, that just seems to tighten any time I look at any of them.

“I can try.” I mutter, and he laughs under his breath.

“Show us whatcha got, Adrianna.”

I take off my hat, and squeeze it tightly in my hands, before handing it over to Lex, and unbuttoning my coat. Chris jerks his head towards the stage, and I step up, my heart beating a million times faster than what I’m sure is normal, and when I turn to face the five men standing before me, I can barely see straight.

My palms sweat as I take hold of the microphone stand. It’s not turned on, but it’s nice to have the prop, and also nice to have something to hold onto, while I get my bearings. I breathe deeply through my nose and close my eyes, trying to collect myself.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Chris asks, and I nod, keeping my gaze on the floor.

Minutes tick by, or it might be seconds, but I can’t tell. My perception of time is gone with my nerve. I look up, Andre and Lex watching from a table near the bar, Connor and Josh behind it. I feel queasy.

Suddenly Josh’s eyes widen, and he takes a step towards me

“She’s going to-”

And then I just see black.

*******

When I open my eyes again, I’m staring at a red velvet ceiling. And then a pair of concerned, brown eyes. And then the bright blue of my brother’s eyes.

“Ada? You there, Chickpea?”

“Mmm,” I hum, looking around.

“You going to be sick?” he asks.

“Nuh uh.”

I feel a hand on my back, pushing me to sit up.

I fainted. Before I even opened my mouth.

“Told you she was going to faint.”

Josh stands on the floor, his elbows resting on the edge on the stage, Andre next to him. Connor and Lex stare down at me in confusion, Chris just behind them.

“C’mon down, honey,” Josh reaches his hand out to me, and still dazed from the fall, I take it, and wriggle off the stage. He catches me under the knees with the crook of his arm, and sets me upright on the ground, and Connor and my brother jump down next to us.

“I guess that answers our question,” Andre says gravely. What question? What is he talking about?

“She was just a little nervous is all,” Josh cuts in, sounding defensive, “Get a shot of whiskey in her and she’ll be dandy.”

“I’ve never had whiskey,” I mumble weakly.

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” he tells me matter-of-factly. Then I feel his arm around my waist, supporting me as he leads me towards the bar, and I glance over at Lex, who just leans back and looks bemused. He’s not stopping us, and I trust my brother, so I let Josh lead me into the room behind the bar, which is really a makeshift office.

He guides me to a cherry leather chaise and leaves again, only to come back with an ornate crystal vessel and two very small glasses.

“You’re looking pale,” he clarifies, filling the small glass with an amber liquid. “Knock this back. You’ll be fine.”

“This feels sketchy,” I say, and he laughs.

“Ms Valentine. Your brother out there has got almost a whole foot on me height wise. He’d kick my ass if I tried anything, I promise you.”

“He’s tall,” I agree, “But scrawny as fuck.”

Josh sucks in a breath between his teeth, and the corner of his lip twitches.

“Cussing isn’t very ladylike, Ms Valentine,” he pours himself a shot, and then swallows it back, running his tongue over his teeth afterwards. “See? It’s not poison. Not really.”

I sniff the whiskey and wrinkle my nose.

“It’s medicinal,” he adds, like that even means anything. Anyone can get a prescription for whiskey. Doctors freely write scripts and the chemists don’t bother asking questions. Still, I roll my eyes.

As quickly as possible, I throw back the shot, but it still burns my throat, and I cough, and splutter, and Josh laughs, leaning back against the desk opposite the chaise. He pours himself another glass.

“Easy, sweetheart.”

I sigh and rest my elbows on my knees.

“Can’t believe that happened,” I mutter. It’s mortifying really. I passed out in front of my brother’s employers.

“It’s fine,” Josh smiles, genuine, “You just need some training. From what I understand, Andre and Alexander put you on the spot, and you had no time to prepare. I’m really sorry about that, but when Alexander said you could sing, I asked him to bring you in to us.”

So, Josh is the reason I’m here.

“Well. I certainly wasn’t expecting it.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs looking down at his palms, clasping his hands as he looks up at me, “I thought they would warn you beforehand.”

“It’s not your fault,” I shake my head, and he sighs. We stay quiet for a few minutes, as I collect my thoughts and my dignity and try pull myself together. Eventually Josh pushes away from the desk, moving to crouch before me. I look up, wary.

“Ms Valentine…”

“Adrianna.”

“Adrianna…” he caught his lower lip between his teeth momentarily, “Would you sing for _me_?”

I swallow, his eyes locking on to mine, and not letting go. Something in my chest flutters, and I want to say _no!_ _No! I don’t want to._ But that’s not exactly  what comes out.

“Why?” I breathe.

“Because,” he lays his hand (large, wide, thick fingers) on the leather next to my thigh, and I almost start, “I think if we start small, we can build _up_ to you singing in front of a crowd.”

I am silent, thoughtful.

“I’m just me,” he says pointedly, “Just Josh. No one important. No one big, or significant, or special. You don’t know me. So sing for me.”

And try as I may, I just can’t seem to defy his logic. So I open my mouth, and I sing.

*******

My hand clasped in his, Josh drags me out of the office, through the main lounge of the speakeasy, and to another corridor, and then we’re in a small kitchen where I see my brother, and Andre, and Chris and Connor and two women all around a table. They fall silent as we enter.

“Well I’ll be, Lex,” Josh beams, shaking his head, “Your sister has one _hell_ of a voice.”


	2. Part Two.

“Girls!” Connor calls up the stairs, and I hover awkwardly behind him, sandwiched between the two brothers. There’s a click of heels on wood, and suddenly, at the top of the dusky stairwell, two figures appear. They’re curvy and beautiful and glittery and grinning. Automatically, I shrink back.

“Yeah, Ducky?” the first calls.

“You ladies wanna take a shopping expedition for our lovely friend Adrianna here?”

Immediately, both pairs of eyes zero in on me. I shrink back some more, far enough to bump into Josh’s chest. He puts his hand on my forearm, and squeezes reassuringly, and the smirk on the girls’ faces says it all.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, and roll my eyes, but it seems only Josh hears me, and I feel his silent chuckle behind me.

“You know, Con, we’re busy ladies.”

“C’mon Elsa, do me a favour?”

“I could think of a favour we’d _both_ benefit from.”

I raise my eyebrows, but Connor looks unfazed.

“Another time maybe, Elsa. Can you and Etta help us out or not?”

The girls look at each other and the one named Elsa tosses her hair back over her shoulder and sighs.

“Give us a while to get ready?”

“Thanks ladies.”

They disappear back up the stairs and Josh leads me out of the corridor with Connor in tow. Back in the main room of the longue, Josh leans over and pats Connor’s shoulder.

“Well done, Con. Today you become a man.”

Connor laughs, and shakes his head, hands in his pockets.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“Because one, Elsa never does anything for anyone unless it’s for Josh,” Connor pinches his brother just above the elbow, and Josh yelps and swats him away, “And two, she propositioned me, and I turned her down.”

“Oh. Well done.”

“ _Oh, well done_ ,” Josh mimics, “You’re such a softie, Ms Valentine. Such a wallflower. We’ll pump some sass into you.”

“I, um,” I stumble a bit, looking wildly between the two brothers and I frown slightly. I’d always been taught to be polite, behave, be seen and not heard. Yet these two men were encouraging me to be the exact opposite. “Who were those girls anyway?”

“They’re our night waitresses,” Josh explains, “You’d need a couple of hardy, feisty girls like that to put up with the shit that goes down in this place sometimes.”

“Why couldn’t you ask them to sing?” I ask softly.

“Etta can’t hold a note to save her life and poor Elsa thinks she’s better than she is. Truthfully she sounds like a child when she sings, and nothing is more of a turn off than a ten year old in _that_ dress.”

Elsa’s dress _was_ a lot flashier than anything I’d ever wear, with a slit to the top of her thigh and a plunging neckline. She sure had the body to pull it off though.

“She seems like a total dumbdora.”

“She is.”

“You think I’m better than her?”

“You are,” he grins, and for some reason those two words alone make my heart flutter. I rarely get compliments like that.

Back in the kitchen, Connor goes to help Andre and Lex move some of the liquor crates and Josh slouches into a seat at the table across from his mother and aunt.

“What did the girls say, sweetheart?” Michelle asks, and Josh rubs a hand over his stomach, smoothing out his shirt.

“They’ll be down in a few minutes and they’ll take Adrianna shopping,” Josh’s gaze flickers over to mine, and he smiles softly, “Buy her something pretty.”

Chris leans against the counter.

“You’ll escort them, won’t you?”

Josh raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know that was part of the deal, but sure. Why not,” he sits up a little straighter, “It’ll be nice to get out of here for a while.”

I hear the clacking of heels on tile again, and then suddenly, the two girls from the stairs, Etta and Elsa, appear in the doorway of the kitchen.

“We’re ready!”

They’re more appropriately dressed now in coats and hats, and Josh takes the keys for the cars and smiles.

“You’re taking us into town, Joshua?” Elsa asks, grabbing his arm.

“Sure am, Elsie,” he smiles, tucking in the ever-loose side of his shirt, “Not ashamed to be seen with me, are you?”

“Not at all,” she presses the tips of her fingers to his chest, and I see Amanda, Michelle’s sister, rolling her eyes. I resist the urge to do the same. I don’t even know this girl and I already find her intolerable. Etta seems quieter and more reserved, so I follow her out behind Josh and Elsa. Josh grabs my coat and hat from the office on the way out and holds it open for me like a gentleman as I slip my arms into the sleeves.

Elsa rides up front with him while Etta and I ride in the back, silently listening to the Elsa’s chatter which seems to be going in Josh’s right ear and out the left. She’s quite the talker, and I realise I could never be that brazen. Is this the kind of woman Josh likes?

Why I even thought about it, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to know. He seemed a little odd to be perfectly honest. Sweet and clever but I couldn’t help think he was maybe hiding something. He seemed to calm and collected.

“I mean it was ridiculous, Josh! The hemline was _all_ wrong, and he couldn’t even see what was wrong! So I just _had_ to find a new tailor.”

“Uh huh.”

I catch his eye in the rear-view mirror, and hold back my laugh. He smiles, gaze flickering back to the road.

McKenzie’s dress-shop in downtown LA was a place I had never been before. It was very high-end, and something I could never afford. I felt a little uncomfortable that the Hutchersons were paying for this little expedition but Lex had told me to ‘just go with it.’

It had been two days ago that I passed out on the stage and I spent all day yesterday being shown around the club by Connor and Amanda. It seemed like they were a wealthy family, so I think I can take Lex’s advice and let this one purchase slide.

Inside the shop is like nothing I’d ever seen. Rows and rails of glittering dresses, shelves of hats, racks of shoes, hangers of headbands and boards of beads. It’s stunning. I’m such a daze that I just follow Elsa and Etta around the shop, holding the dresses they lay up on my arms. Josh sits in a chair near the dressing rooms looking tired but interested. He must be a good actor or something, because I doubt any man could find this interesting. Or maybe he was just amused.

I try on dress, after dress, and none of them feel right. I step out of the fitting room in a black slinky thing with a ruffled skirt and a low neckline, much like the ones Elsa and Etta had been wearing earlier. I feel uncomfortably exposed.

“It’s gorgeous!” Etta squeals, and takes my hand to make me turn for her, and Elsa smiles in approval.

“What do you think, Josh?” she asks, turning to look at him, still slouched in the chair, “Like it?”

He’s quiet, before he stands up and steps a little closer to me. And then he steps so close I momentarily forget how to breathe. He leans close, inspecting the thin, bejewelled strap on my shoulder, running his finger along the diamanté design. I swallow.

“No,” he says quietly.

“No?” Elsa sounds surprised. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Oh it’s… stunning,” Josh huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are fixed on the strip of pale flesh exposed between my breasts. It occurs to me that he’s the first man ever to have set eyes on that small sliver of skin.

“But,” I whisper, waiting for him to finish.

“But it’s not _you_ ,” he murmurs, pursing his lips and turns around so suddenly, that all three of us jump in surprise. He moves along the rail the far side of where we had looked, away from the silvers and blacks and gold of the shimmering low cut dresses.

“What do you mean ‘it’s not her’?” Elsa snips, folding her arms.

“She’s nineteen, El. She doesn’t need every guy in that bar looking at her like she’s a piece of meat.”

“Like _you_ just did?” Elsa retorts. Josh pauses, with his hand on top of the rack of clothing.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Exactly.”

I feel a flood of heat rushing through me, and gently touch my collarbone with my fingertips, trying to hide the flush on my chest. His eyes track the movement momentarily, and I see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows thickly, and then pulls out a dress. It’s red, and it’s silky rather than glittery, with a low waist and sweetheart neckline Instantly, I love it.

“Try this on, I’ll look for some shoes.”

I take the dress and turn quickly into the fitting room to change.

“Didn’t know you knew how to shop, Josh.”

“You’d be surprised by the things I know, Elsa.”

Etta just keeps her mouth shut and helps me out of the black dress, because the tension is now palpable. But I have to admit, Josh has great taste in clothing, and I’m pretty sure I don’t stop blushing for the rest of the day.

*******

The next morning, Lex drops me off at the cellar doors and leaves again. I find this peculiar, until I get to the metal doors and knock twice, once, thrice.

Josh peers through the slot, and then just as quickly as he’d been there, he’s gone again. Locks click, hinges creak, and he pulls me into the little hallway, and then locks up the door behind us.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Nothing, but we’re alone. I’d like to take advantage of that.”

I might as well have swallowed my tongue I was so at a loss for words.

“Wh-what?”

“Oh, that didn’t sound good,” he frowns, wrinkling his nose, “I just mean, I want you to sing. We’re alone. You can sing to me, right?”

“Oh- oh, sure,” I stutter, and then follow him through the windowless corridors until we reach the lounge. Once there, he ushers me up on the stage and grabs a chair, sitting in front of the wooden platform. Not a timewaster, this man.

“Well go on,” he beams.

I sing him Francie Brice’s ‘My Man’ which leaves him grinning, one leg resting across his lap, hand on his ankle, relaxed. I sing it as best as I can, and he doesn’t seem disappointed.

“Almost perfect,” he says, smiling, “We just gotta teach you how to work that mic!”

“Oh,” I say,

“ _Oh,_ ” he mocks, “You got to stop saying that. _Oh_. There are other vowels too.”

“Ah…”

“Ata girl.”

I cover my mouth to hold back a laugh, as he stands up, and climbs up on the stage next to me. Today he’s wearing brown slacks and a cream shirt, braces attached over his shoulders. His hair isn’t quite slicked back, like he bathed and towel dried it, but did nothing much else.

Generally he looked dishevelled, but today he looked invitingly so.

He climbs up next to me.

“See, you’re just standing there with your hands behind your back. It looks… odd. Hold the microphone. Show me what feels comfortable.”

I pull my lower lip into my mouth, reaching out to grasp the stand, and Josh nods. I sing the first verse again, as he walks around me, scrutinizing.

“Work the stand.”

“Huh?”

“Move your hands,” he steps in front of the stand, and I drop my hands as his take their place. “You want to, uh, caress it.” His hands move slowly down the shaft of the microphone stand, and then quickly to the top. I swallow hard and nod, not quite able to meet his eye. There’s something quite obscene about it and I can’t help but wonder-

“Play with it,” I say.

“Mm,” he agrees, lips pressed tight together as he pushes his hands into his pockets. I mimic his movements, fingertips grazing the silver metal left warm by his touch. My palms are clammy, “And move your hips. You’re too stiff, Valentine.”

“Sorry,” I smirk, and wriggle my hips a little. Josh chuckles, and takes a step back, watching me as he chews the inside of my lip then.

I sing him another song, and this time I put some work into it, doing as he’d asked. It feels a little silly, but I meet his eye and – there’s that same look, the look from the dress shop. Eyes dark and intense, his lips a tight line of frustration. Have I done something wrong?

“What?” I ask.

“What, what?”

“You’re giving me that look again.”

He taps his foot and leans back on his hips slightly.

“I just… I think you’re amazing.”

Not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it.

“You do?”

“You take direction incredibly well. And manage to look sexy as hell while doing it.”

Definitely wasn’t expecting that either.

“They’ll love you,” he states curtly, reining  himself in, stopping himself from making another dangerous comment. I clasp my hands together and nod.

“Thank you, Josh.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, back turned to me as he jumps off the stage, feet together. He resumes his earlier position on the chair. “One more time from the top.”


	3. Part Three.

The dilemma, Josh and I discovered, was that I had to find some vague form of self-confidence by Friday. That’s how long Chris and Michelle had given their son to prove to them that I could work at the club every night. So during the days now I sat with him in the office, or in the lounge, singing and singing and singing, and at nights I would sit behind the bar and watch him.

It was fascinating to watch him work, mingling among the drinkers, having a good time and maintaining the noise to a safe level. He seemed to get along with just about everyone, charisma and charm emanating from him even when he worked behind the bar.

Occasionally he’d see me looking, and smile, and I didn’t bother to look away. He caught me, so why deny it? I’d smile back.

“Something wrong with my face?” he leans down over me, palms resting on the arms of my chair. He’s not drunk but I can smell the whiskey on him, and his cologne, and sweat, and smoke.

“No,” I say softly, crossing one leg over the other and sitting up straighter. He smiles.

“Quit staring. You’re making me nervous.”

I resist the urge to say ‘make me’ but instead just lower my eyes to my lap. I’d be lying to myself at least a little if I said I wasn’t attracted to him, I know that much. He was a strong character, sweet and funny too, sometimes considerate, other times plain old odd, and he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. It made watching him so damn easy.

“Chin up, sweetheart. I’ll take you out for ice-cream tomorrow.”

I raise my eyebrow.

“You sound like my dad.”

“I could be.”

“No you couldn’t!” I laugh, pushing him away by then chest. He pushes his hands into his pockets.

“I suppose not.”

He’s older than me, but not by much. I don’t think so.

“I don’t want you to think of me as a child.”

The words come out without me meaning for them to, and his Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. He grabs a glass from the shelf behind me and slides it under one of the taps.

“I don’t,” he says, handing me the glass. I sip, and cringe. Straight up gin. He chuckles, “You do.”

He goes back to work.

Thursday morning I’m standing on the stage and Josh sips on a tawny coloured drink, swaying to the music from the record player, and for a minute I think I’m seeing double, but no. Connor stands in the door behind him, smiling softly. I stutter slightly, and Josh raises his glass.

“Don’t _stop_ , Valentine!”

I giggle through the lyrics, watching him smile back at me, his eyes shining. It’s early in the morning and he hasn’t slept from the night before when he’d been working and drinking. And he’s still drinking now. Now, he is _definitely_ drunk.

I sing louder as Connor takes Josh’s drink, downs the last remains, and places it on the bar. I keep singing, and more of the crew keep arriving. And then the song ends, and Chris gives me a nod from the door. And I have a job.

I wake up on Friday morning with every nerve jumping because tonight is the night I have to pull myself together and act like an adult. It’s the first performance night. I wish I could say I was feeling more confident.

When Lex knocks twice, once, thrice on the steel door, it’s Amanda that peeps through the slot in the door. She opens the door and lets us in, smiling.

“You’re pale,” she says to me.

“She’s nervous.”

I know my way to the lounge by heart now, just trailing ahead of Lex, Andre and Amanda, until the wooden floors change to carpet. Inside, the Hutcherson brothers are cleaning up after the previous night. I lean back against the wall, watching Josh hanging a poster above the stage. A poster with my face on it, a picture Amanda had taken earlier in the week.

Three quick hammers as he drives the nails into the wall, and he stands back to admire his work.

“That’s unnecessarily big,” I say, and he turns, eyebrows raised.

“I think it’s great.”

His button down is undone, undershirt showing, suspenders hanging down by his thighs. Sweaty. Dirty. Unkempt as usual, boyishly tousled.

“Nervous?” he asks as I walk to the edge of the stage towards him, and I extend my shaking hand. He sits down on the edge of the platform, and takes my hand, but instead he brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Don’t be.”

“So nervous,” I breathe.

“Don’t be,” he repeats, swinging his legs, “You’re wonderful. You’re amazing.”

“Josh.”

“Shh,” he pushes off the stage, dropping my hand, “You’re not allowed to be nervous tonight. You’ll be great. Now grab a brush and help me clean this up.” And that’s the last he says on the subject.

*******

Elsa pulls me aside a little before opening time, insistent on doing my make-up, and when she’s done I barely recognise myself. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing. I sit around in the office as people start to file in, and drinks get passed around, and the chatter picks up.

There’s that feeling again. The knot of nerves, the light-headedness, sick to my stomach. I play with the beads around my neck as if they were a rosary, as if I believed in God that devoutly, as if it would make me feel better.

Eventually, Josh peeks in through the door.

“You’re… Well hi there. Wow. You look,” he steps in, closes the door behind him, “Astounding.”

I look up and give a jerky nod, trying to smile. His face falls.

“Aw, no, c’mon Valentine. What did I say? No nerves tonight.”

“There are so many people.”

“We’ll do shots.”

I scoff, want to rub my face, cry, but I know Elsa would kill me after working on my face for so long.

“I don’t want a drink.”

“Okay. That’s fine. It just lowers your inhibitions a bit, might help.”

“I know,” I murmur, “I know what alcohol, does, Josh. Not a kid.”

“Never said you were,” his voice gets hard all of a sudden, “Is that what this is about? Because believe me, Adrianna, you’re no little girl, I know. I know.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Impossible,” he snips, “ _I_ liked you. From the moment I saw you. That doesn’t happen a lot, dear. I liked you. They’ll love you.”

I feel a little angry. I want him to _more than_ like me. I want him to _want_ me.

“Yeah,” I breathe, looking down at my knees.

“Ada,” suddenly he’s right there in front of me, and he’s never called me by my nickname before. Is this a small victory?

His fingertip starts at the strap of my dress, near my collarbone, following into the curve of the neckline. The pad of his index finger brushes the skin of my breast and he licks his lips. “Make them love you.”

The door opens, and Connor calls me, but Josh doesn’t move an inch, and I don’t break his gaze. I feel my skin break out in goose bumps, and give another quick, jerky nod. And then I pull away and head towards a mildly-surprised looking Connor. He escorts me to the stage, and there are catcalls and wolf-whistles, but I barely hear them past the blood rushing through my ears. The music starts, and I sing without thinking about it.

I perform late into the night as the merriment continues on around me, and I put on a _damn_ _good_ show. Maybe too good. There’s applause when I finish for the night, and Josh helps me down off the stage, just as I hear a commotion.

“What’s your name, baby doll?” I hear a call, and I can’t help but look around. There’s a man lumbering towards us, obviously very drunk, unsteady on his feet. He reaches for me, and I easily bat his hand away. He laughs, “You sure know how to work the microphone.”

“Uh huh,” I murmur, letting Josh lead me away.

“I’ll give you something to work,” the guy presses, following after us. Josh pulls me behind him, eyebrows raised at the drunk.

“Excuse me?” he says, tilting his head.

“Ain’t talking to you, short stack.”

Josh coughs out a laugh, and shakes his head.

“She’s not interested, bud.”

“Why don’t you let the lady answer for herself?”

There are people watching now, but not many, and I shake my head slightly.

“Sorry,” I tell him, “No thanks.” But the guy still doesn’t back down, and he gets a little too close for comfort right as Josh pushes him back. I feel a hand on my arm and turn to see Michelle trying to lead me away, leaving Josh and Connor to get the drunkard under control. Before I even get to the office, I hear the shouts and crashes of a fight breaking out, but Michelle closes the door quickly, blocking out most of the sound.

“You were great, Ada. Really. Beautiful,” she says, obviously trying to distract me. “Josh was right about you.”

“Will they be okay?” I ask warily, looking towards the door. She stands between me and it.

“They’re big boys now, they’ll be fine,” she affirms, “Stay in here, okay?”

And then she’s gone again and I’m left alone.

It must be a half hour before I hear the door open again, and by then I’m sitting in the chair behind the desk, my face in my palms. I can tell before I even look up that it’s Josh.

I try not to gasp at the gash along his eyebrow.

“Goodness.”

“You should see the other guy.”

I cover my mouth, and stand up. There’s a little blood on his shirt, but other than the cut on his face he seems alright, and I don’t doubt that the other man has fared far worse. And the thought that those hands, that had so gently held mine earlier as he kissed my knuckles, could also be so strong and violent almost made me shudder.

“There are bandages in the drawer,” he gestures, and I’m still covering my mouth in shock, “Ada?”

My hands are shaking as I go to the drawer he gestures to and pull out a roll of gauze.

“How?”

“He threw a glass. And I threw him out.”

I take his hands, make him sit against the edge of the desk. The wound isn’t all that deep, so I just press the bandage to it to stem the flow. He winces at the pressure, and then moves his hand over mine, once again so gentle I feel like I might die.

“Thanks for taking care of me there,” I say eventually, and he just smiles, tinged with sadness.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“How so?” I step a little closer, my arm tired from holding up the gauze, but not wanting to take away my hand from under his. His fingers flex a little, and a strange little noise escapes my mouth before I can stop it. The corners of his lips twitch.

“I brought you in to all this. If something happened to you, it would be my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

“Shut your mouth,” I say, glaring, and he looks momentarily surprised.

“Ada-”

“No. If it wasn’t for this I would have never met you. And I’m glad I met you.”

Josh frowns slightly, and with his free hand, cups the side of my face, then lets his hand fall to my waist, pulling me closer, until there’s nothing between us but our clothes. And then his mouth is on mine, and the surprise of it all makes me cry out against his lips.

It’s not like I’ve never been kissed before, but I realise that up until then, I had never _really_ been kissed.

His hand curls into the back of my hair, pulling the pin out and wrapping his fingers into the loose tendrils, holding me there against him but not against my will at all. I look for purchase, finding the length of his tie and wrapping it around my hand, pulling him down to me.

I gasp, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth, my hand on his chest, neck, in his hair. He groans, and turns us over, pushing me against the desk and trapping me there with his hips. Head injury forgotten, it appears. Nothing else mattered right then but him kissing me, and me, precipitously falling for him.

“God,” he whispers, holding my face close to his. Hearts beating too fast, soft kisses, breathlessness. “Ada. Fuck. God damnit. I’m sorry I’m not sorry at all.”

My lipstick is smeared across his mouth, a bright and ridiculous shade of red that has never looked better than when I put it there.

“It’s quite okay,” I mutter, in breathless anticipation. He chuckles.

“You’re quite the lady.”

“I could be quite _your_ lady.”

“Mmm, quite.”

*******

It makes a difference, you know. Just one person having belief in you. It changes you into something you never knew you could be, and something you like being. And I liked being part of the laughter, and the liveliness that came every night with working, and then the sweetness that came after that with Josh.

He was right. He was the one who brought me into all this. I would learn from him a life of secrecy and chances and risky business. And I’d learn to love it all because of him. He made me feel like a real person, made me feel like a woman, and that was worth all the 18 hour work days in my life. It should have been exhausting, but it wasn’t. La Maison Fatigué made it worth getting out of bed in the mornings.

This house really isn’t so tired after all.


End file.
